


Idle hands are the Devil's playthings

by rectificatory



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bondage, Derogatory Language, Disabled Character, Drug Use, Foot Fetish, Forced Masturbation, M/M, Masturbation, Medical Trauma, Name-Calling, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pain, Prostate Massage, Rope Bondage, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27493243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rectificatory/pseuds/rectificatory
Summary: Collin likes to tease his young friend Timothy's cock when they *play*.Timothy secretly like to tease his own cock when *playing* alone too, until one day...
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Idle hands are the Devil's playthings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello folks, just a quick warning to start off with because, unlike any of my other stories, this one features a boy in some considerable pain, and although there is not any violence involved, you may still wish to skip it if you dislike that sort of thing.

Colin’s dexterous tongue flicked the sensitive end of Timothy’s bronzed two-inch long appendage drawing high, light sighs from the boy’s smiling mouth. He applied a subtle vacuum, sliding his tight lips along the ridges before releasing it to bathe in the cool air circulating through the bedroom. The man watched as it twitched, and the youngster’s whole body writhed in anticipation, as he sucked the next finger into his mouth.

Timothy’s body seemed to radiate a deep rich glow under the warm white luminance of the bedrooms bright light. The boy’s skin, an almost uniform caramel colour, shimmered with a fine layer of perspiration as the man began to work his young body into a frenzy.

He looked up at the boy’s snaggle-toothed grin, particularly the cute gap where Timothy’s missing right canine tooth should reside, as he took the middle digit of boy’s left hand between his moist red lips. Colin grinned as, running the point of his spongy, pink tongue along the underside of Timothy’s finger, the boy giggled again at the ticklish sensation.

Timothy’s other two fingers received the same treatment and now hung lazily in the man’s hands, glistening with saliva as Colin peppered his dainty wrist and sensitive inner forearm with light butterfly kisses. The boy moaned and giggled as the flat tongue swept into the crease of his elbow, deftly tracing its circumference around to the loose skin on the outer edge. He bit his lip and squirmed as Colin nibbled delicately on the wrinkled flesh.

“Do you have too,” Timothy complained. “That feels weird and pervy.”

“Little Tim doesn't think so,” Colin told him, pausing just long enough to reply and point at the upright boy-cock before resuming his feast.

“I didn't say it wasn’t nice,” Timothy said in a huff. “It’s just weird.”

Colin smirked as his lips left the boys elbow, continuing to plant light kisses long along Timothy’s bicep, tracing the developing muscle to the hairless armpit. He blew lightly onto the tender skin, eliciting more giggles from the boy, before lavishing it with his tongue, tasting the salty sheen of pre-teen sweat, and leaving silvery trails of saliva in his wake.

The man licked and nibbled over Timothy’s shoulder, and along his collarbone savouring the flavour of the boy's perspiration. Collin saw, out of the corner of his eye, the boys right hand rise up and drift slowly towards the pulsing stalk, a flagpole standing at his groin, the slender fingers already curling, ready to capture the slim boy-cock and give it a couple of tugs.

Colin easily batted the hand away, admonishing the boy as he lapped at the sensitive skin at Timothy’s neck.

“No touching,” he said, his lips brushing against the boy's earlobe. “Remember: the longer the fuse, the bigger the explosion.”

“But I wanna,” moaned the boy plaintively, but allowing his arm to drop limply by his side, a smirk forming on his face. “And you wanna drink my kiddie-cum too, you perv!”

“I do, but not yet,” the man promised, kissing the boys red lips passionately.

He wrestled the boy’s tongue into submission, and tickled the delicate inner lining of Timothy’s lips, feeling the snorts of warm air coming from the boy’s nose as he attempted to stop himself from laughing. The man ran his fingers through Timothy’s short, dark hair, using the boys sweat to style it in adorable arrangements, separating two tufts, and moulding them into miniature devil horns. Colin chuckled at Timothy’s grumpy expression as the boy fixed his hairdo ruffling it in just the right way to look both neat and messy at the same time.

Colin kissed along the boys right cheek, and down past his other ear. The man felt tension fill the right side of the boys body when his lips made contact with the straining neck. He got to the collarbone, just short of the shoulder when he heard the boys low hiss of warning.

“It’s fine,” Colin said softly, his lips moving closer to the boys shoulder.

“I don’t want you too,” Timothy said in a softer, but still very clear voice.

Timothy had balled his fist, his whole right arm stiff, and he fidgeted on the spot trying to move away from the man. The boy fixed the man with a reproachful glare, his green eyes flashing as he narrowed them. His expression softened as the man yielded his position.

“Okay,” the man conceded.

Colin retreated, redirecting his mouth to the boy’s chest, rising and falling deeply and quickly. He teased his way down to the boy’s nipples licking, sucking, and gently biting them. The boy hissed, sucking in air between his teeth at the small, sharp sensation. The man looked along the slight frame of the boy, eyeing the throbbing dicklet that jumped in response to his assault on the pointed nubs.

Timothy laughed again, his body relaxing, the brief disagreement between the two of them forgotten. He wriggled in place as the man’s flexible tongue dived into his belly button, swirled around its rim, and he nibbled at the taut flesh. The boy held his breath as the butterfly kisses littered his bald pubis, so tantalizingly close to his straining shaft.

Colin chuckled at the boys groan of disappointment as he spread Timothy’s legs and kissed his inner thigh. The man made a supreme effort to visit every inch of the sensitive skin, only moving on to the boys knee when Timothy alternatively panted and giggled. He expected a comment from the boy as he lightly chewed on the looser skin around the kneecap, and he got one.

“The feels weird too, and pervier than before,” moaned Timothy, repeating his assessment of the treatment of his elbows.

Timothy’s calves received much the same treatment as his thighs, his Achilles's tendon and ankles softly nibble on in turn. He clenched his jaw tightly shut to prevent the bellows of laughter the man’s attack on the sole of his bare foot threatened to force out of him. The boy could not contain himself when Colin started to suck on his little toe.

Colin slipped his tongue between and around of the boys toes, sucking on them all gently as he passed. He surprised Timothy by grabbing both feet at the same time, and pressing them both together, managed to get the pair of big toes in his mouth simultaneously. The man's mirrored the journey on the boys left foot, his left leg, all the way to the hip, electrifying the tender caramel flesh as he went.

The man kissed along the smooth abdomen, bypassing the rigid pole once more and eliciting a frustrated groan from his young friend. He made his way to the boys right hip, kissing around it in soft, ticklish circles. Colin raised his head and leaned towards Timothy’s right hand.

“No,” the boy said again, sharply this time as he went rigid.

“I’m sorry,” said Colin looking Timothy in the eye.

“Can you just…” Timothy asked awkwardly, his eyes flicking to his neglected cock.

Colin answered by retracing his path towards the boys exposed groin and, instead of making contact with the boy's dick, slipped lower to caress the robin’s egg sized orbs held in their tight, wrinkled pouch sucking one, then the other into his warm, wet mouth. He nibbled gently at the sack, listening to the grateful yips and mewls from the boy as the finale approached.

Timothy’s cock, a respectable four-inch-er, stood tall, towering over the man in this position. He looked along his flushed body into the man’s soft brown eyes, alive with concentration and purpose. The boy loved watching the man like this, totally absorbed in giving Timothy’s boy-bits this wonderful, if drawn out pleasure.

The man grinned as he heard Timothy gasp when his tongue unexpectedly flicked up the bobbing shaft and collided with the exposed head. The man’s soft, practised lips wrapped around the flared ridge, applying the same subtle vacuum to it, just as he had done to the boys fingers so long ago. He engulfed the velvety stalked, lashing at the tight, sensitive skin with the tip of his tongue, enjoying the moans of ecstasy leaving Timothy’s lips.

“Mm, suck my boy-cock, you paed… per… you perv!” Timothy moaned, biting his lip and reigning in his half-uttered dirty talk, fearing that Collin would delay his release even more if he called the man _that_ right now, just to spite him.

Colin bobbed up-and-down with at a languid pace, prolonging the boys pleasure as he cradled and rolled the immature balls, and tickled and lightly probed the yielding hole. He felt both of the boy’s hands grip his head, fingers winding through his curly blond hair, as Timothy tried to encourage him to speed up his lazy, unhurried ministrations.

“I’m cu…!” Timothy gasped out after many torturous minutes, his orgasm stealing his voice with a gasp.

The boy jerked and thrust his slim tool as far as he could into the man’s mouth, his small balls pulling against Colin’s gripping fingers, trying to pour out far more cum than they held. His hand fell to his rigidly to his sides, fingers tightly gripped the plain white sheets of the bed trying to find some purchase as his entire body writhed in delight. Timothy’s watery semen burst forth, spreading over the man’s waiting tongue.

He fell back, exhausted, breathing deeply and sweating profusely. Timothy looked up at the man with blurry eyes, a lopsided grin of his flushed face. The boy wiped his brow with the back of his right arm before he spoke.

“You were right,” he said grudgingly. “It was better for waiting.”

“Told ya’,” the man said with a knowing smile.

“Okay, it’s your turn now,” Timothy told the man.

“No, you’re tired,” Colin said sympathetically. “Have a rest, you don’t need to do it.”

“Yeah, I know,” said the boy, a note of defiance in his voice. “But I want too, and I know you want me to too.”

He reached towards the man’s dick, seven-inches tall with a neatly trimmed bush at the base, instinctively using his right hand before seeming to notice and withdrawing it. Timothy scowled at the man for a moment before his face softened, and he extended his left hand towards the man’s groin. The boy inexpertly wrapped his thin fingers around the thick shaft and started to stroke.

“You’re just getting a handjob though,” Timothy told the man, lips curling into a taunting grin, “I’ve already brushed my teeth, and I don’t want to taste your yucky paedo-cum all night.”

Colin didn’t want to tell the boy that this irregular and uneven technique felt almost as good as the boys previously well practice right-handed stroke. He enjoyed the varying pressure and the unintended little flicks of the fingertips as the boy tried to alter his grip. The man soon arrived at the point of no return, his cock swelling as his ball boiled ready to eject their contents.

“I’m cumming.” he grunted, thrusting his hips forward.

Timothy bent forwards too, diving to catch the man's seed in his wide open mouth. The boy continued pumping the cock, milking every last drop of the man’s cream onto his tongue. He swallowed the man’s entire load in one loud gulp, grinning cheekily at Colin as the tip of his pink tongue darted out of his mouth to clean a small streak of jizz nestled in the thin scar on his upper lip.

“What happened to not wanting to taste my, what was it…” Collin asked in mock thought, “Ah, yes, my ‘yucky paedo-cum’?”

“It’s not _that_ yucky,” Timothy conceded, scooping the last pearl from the tip of Collins dick and sucking it off of his finger noisily.

“You,” said Colin a moment later, tapping the boy playfully on the end of his nose. “Had better get off to bed.”

“’Kay. ‘Night.” Timothy said sleepily as he leaned in to kiss the man goodnight, tasting himself on the Collin’s lips.

Colin took hold of both of the boy’s shoulders, holding him firm as fatigue made him sway unsteadily. The man felt glad that Timothy didn’t shake off his left hand, and gave the boy a tentative, loving squeeze on the arm. They embraced after the kiss, Timothy wrapping both arms around Colin, and the man returning the boy’s tight hug.

Colin watched as Timothy clambered off of his bed and left the room, the boy lifting his right arm high above his head, bending it at the elbow and using his well trimmed nails to scratch the back of his neck, just below the dark hairline.

§

The man jolted awake, roused from his slumber by a voice calling his name. Colin sat up, his uncooperative limbs still heavy with tiredness. He looked at his clock—10 A.M.—and discovered that he had slept for much longer than he had intended.

“C… Colin!” came a hoarse call from Timothy, his dull, low voice carrying through the house.

“What’s wrong?” Colin called back as he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“I… I need you…!” came the boy’s plaintive cry.

Colin sighed and hoisted himself out of bed, stumbling along the cold, bare floorboards towards the door. The man’s heart began to beat faster, it sounded like the boy was in his bedroom, but in distress too. He barged his way into Timothy’s room, tripping over his feet in his haste to get to the boy.

Timothy lay on his bed, legs spread apart, displaying his rigid boy-cock and filled boy-hole to the man. He stroked the upright caramel shaft methodically with his right hand, his fingers grasping his stalk with a light, precise grip. The boy also erratically, frantically and repeatedly plunged the middle- and index-fingers of his left hand into depths of his equally caramel coloured bottom.

Colin took all of this in, wondering what the problem could be as Timothy seemed to be bringing himself to wonderful heights of ecstasy. He guessed that maybe the short digits pumping in-and-out of his hole might be frustrating for the boy, he doubted they had the length to adequately massage Timothy’s immature prostate. The man knew there couldn’t be a problem with the expertly performed two-fingers handjob the boy was giving himself, not judging by the way Timothy’s cute little toes curled with each stroke.

“It won’t… It won’t stop!” Timothy wailed, thrashing his head to-and-fro. “I can’t make it stop!”

The man looked at Timothy, confused at the desperation in the boy’s pleading eyes, surly he could just let go of his dick or give it a quick tug to finish himself off? He watched, his confusion deepening as the boy’s finger did slow to a stop, merely holding the pulsing caramel boy-cock straight up and away from the sweat-drenched heaving torso. Colin could not understand why the boy redoubled his efforts with his left hand, pistoning his fingers into his butt, coupled with a pitiful whine.

Timothy let out a low, animalistic groan of frustration as, despite his best efforts, his right hand started to wank his aching dick again. The boy had enjoyed it in the beginning—even if it had been a little unnerving—his body seeming to be on automatic, his new fingers teasing his cocklet with slow measured strokes. He had just let it happen, enjoying the freedom to experience the waves of pleasure as his hand edged himself skilfully, but that had been two hours ago.

He had enjoyed the seductive rhythm for an hour before he tried to finish himself off, only to find his arm no longer obeyed him. Timothy felt a thrill of panic pass through him when he realised his lack of control, and endeavoured to solve the problem by massaging his own boy-button to finally get himself off. The boy began to fear for his sanity when, after an hour of trying, and only able to brush against the swollen gland with the tips off his fingers—which not been enough to make him cum—and his own fingers deviously stopped providing enough stimulation to his dick, he gave in and called for help.

“It’s doing it on its own. I can’t stop it. I need to cum!” Timothy begged Colin, throwing his head back and pumping his hips fruitlessly as the fingers halted their stimulation. “Please, please, please!”

The man felt his own sense of panic rising in his chest as he trembled on the spot, a sense of helplessness overcoming him as he looked at the person he loved most in the world in such distress. He clawed at his face, feeling the rough stubble of his closely shaved beard scratching at his fingertips. Colin took a steadying breath as his reason began to out strip his panic.

“What do I do? What to I do?” Colin mumbled to himself as he watched Timothy bite his lips as the boys fingers began their insidious work again.

“Override key!” he gasped, the memory surfacing as he heard the boy’s soft mewls of desperation.

Colin dashed from the room, his feet slipping for a moment on the smooth floor, down the stairs, clearing the last half-dozen in a single leap. He pulled out drawers and riffled through papers and trinkets until he found the intricately crafted aluminium oblong. The man rushed back upstairs, taking two at a time, skidded into Timothy’s bedroom and leaned over the boy.

“This… This is going to be uncomfortable,” he warned the boy. “Get ready.”

“Please,” begged Timothy. “Just make it stop.”

The man leant over the boy’s shuddering boy, gently rolling Timothy partly onto his side to get a better angle at the control section of his prosthetic arm. He had to be firm as he pressed it against the synthetic flesh, and he tried to ignore the boy’s low moan of discomfort. Colin breathed a sigh of relief when Timothy’s right hand fell limply onto his hip.

The boy groaned as he relaxed a little, free from the constant stroking of the hand. He pulled the other hand away from his hole, and tried to uncurl his finger, but winced as they cramped up from being in the same position for nearly an hour. Timothy looked up at Colin with bleary eyes, silently communicating his thanks to the man.

“Please,” he croaked, unable to mange more than a whisper now. “Please make me cum.”

The boy could not muster the energy to left his hand, to give his overworked penis the merest brush with his fingertips to achieve his long awaited orgasm. Timothy wiggled his hips the best he could, his cock swaying like a Cobra trying to entice its prey closer. He whimpered in gratitude as he saw Colin moving towards his needy dick.

The man engulfed the glowing caramel stick in his mouth, bathing it in soothing saliva that acted as a salve to the overstimulated flesh. He waited only a second before his mouth was flooded with Timothy’s long withheld seed, thicker and more potent than the night before. Colin swallowed and watched as the boy-cock began to wilt in the cooling air.

He shuffled onto the bed, enfolding Timothy in his arms, holding the boy tight as he let out a soft sigh and slipped into unconsciousness. The man waited for hours, watching the boy closely as his thin chest rose and fell rhythmically in a well deserved sleep. Colin felt himself become drowsy, and fighting it off for as long as he could, before slowly drifted off into sleep himself.

§

Timothy’s heavy and numb arm was useless to him now, a dead weight as he tried to clamber over Colin without disturbing him. He felt guilty about what had happened, even though deep down he knew he held no blame. However, the boy wanted to try to make it up to the man somehow, and letting him sleep for a while longer seemed like a good start.

“Oof!” cried man and boy simultaneously as Timothy’s slight weight fell upon Colin, rousing him.

“Sorry,” apologised Timothy, rolling awkwardly off of the man.

“’s okay,” said the man, yawning and stretching.

“I was going to let you sleep a bit, then make breakfast…” the boy told him before glancing at his bedside clock. “Erm, lunch now I guess.”

“It’s okay, I’ll make lunch, you go and get washed and dressed, you’re stinky,” Colin told Timothy, leaning to nuzzle his neck, taking an exaggerated sniff at the same time.

Timothy rolled off of the bed and trotted out of the room, stripping off his pyjama top as he went, muttering epithets as he manoeuvred it over his dangling arm. He washed himself adeptly, just using one hand, the muscle memory from having to do it that way for so long reasserting itself. His dick looked a bit reddish, a result of its prolonged usage, which was unsurprising, but what did surprise him was that it remained half-hard.

Colin busied himself making their lunch: strips of streaky bacon cut in half; scrambled eggs; slices of toast, quartered; fired button mushrooms; a good handful of Chipolata sausages; a couple of beef Tomatoes halved and fried; and a pan of Baked Beans. He eventually found, after much rooting around in the back of the drawers, Timothy’s custom cutlery, and laid it out on the table ready for the boy's arrival. The man had just finished plating up their meal when the boy arrived.

“Mm, smells good,” Timothy said happily, digging in to the food with the unsurpassed gusto of a twelve-year-old boy.

“Maybe you’d like to try tasting it too?” Colin asked, watching the boy barely chew his food before swallowing it.

Timothy insisted on helping Colin do the dishes after they had finished, doing his best to put all the crockery and cutlery away in their designated spots. He continued to mutter under his breath occasionally as the useless arm got in his way. The boy eventually collapsed onto the sofa, idly flicking through the channels on the television, trying to find something to take his mind off the mornings events.

“Hey Timothy,” called Colin from the hall later that afternoon.

“Yeah,” the boy called back only half-listening having become engrossed in a nature documentary.

“I’ve found one of your old slings,” the man informed Timothy. “Do you want it out now?”

“Um,” replied the boy, glancing at the limp arm. “Yeah, I guess so, it’s getting to be really annoying.”

Colin’s heart broke, and he tried to fight back his tears as he heard Timothy call his arm ‘it’, it had taken months for the boy to become comfortable enough to call it ‘his’, and now that was ruined. He wondered how the boy was coping so well with the situation—losing a limb, having to get used to a new one, then having it betray him—and what he could do to help. The man angrily wiped the tears from his eyes, he had to be strong for Timothy.

§

“Hey Collin,” said Timothy from his end of the sofa the next evening. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Sure buddy,” Colin said with a yawn. “What is it?”

“I need you to take if off,” the boy told him.

“Take what off?” the man asked, confused.

“‘It’... the arm,” said Timothy, his voice getting quieter. “I need you to take the arm off.”

“But that’ll…” the man started to say.

“I know,” the boy said fiercely, cutting across him. “But, I don’t want it on me any more.”

“Okay,” Colin said, trying to remain clam, knowing that this wasn’t an easy request for the boy to make. “I’ll get everything ready, just try to relax.”

Timothy found himself sat on a dining chair half-an-hour later, all the tools that would be needed for the operation laid out on the table behind him. He had been trying to relax, but he knew from experience that the next few minutes of his life would be extremely unpleasant. The boy took the small plastic cup Colin handed to him and tipped the contents into his mouth momentarily gratefully.

“Ugh,” moaned the boy, swallowing a hefty dose of liquid Morphine. “This stuff is gross.”

“Better gross that nothing at all,” the man said sagely.

Colin picked up the bundle of leather belts from the table and knelt in front of the boy. He lashed one around each of the boys calves, trapping them against the chairs legs; another two at the wrist and elbow, pining down the left arm too; the next around the boys slim waist; and the last across his narrow chest, the rough back side rubbing against the darker, brown nipples. The man rose and collected a set of metal tools and began work on the boy’s free arm.

Timothy hissed and squirmed as the man poked and prodded him. He felt unwelcome, intensely sharp pricks of pain as the preparatory stage of the arms removed got underway. The boy sweated and took deep steadying breaths as the man finished his work.

“You doing okay?” Colin asked him.

“Yeah,” the boy said tersely from behind gritted teeth.

“Okay,” said the man, taking a deep breath himself. “Last bit.”

Colin offered the rubber cylinder to Timothy who bit down on it gratefully. He placed his hands firmly on the boy’s right shoulder and just above the elbow. The man looked straight ahead at the boy, meeting his fearful gaze.

“Just keep looking me in the eye, and on the count of three…,” he told the boy who nodded his understanding.

“One…” Colin said, tugging the arm away from the boy’s body, forgoing the rest of the countdown.

“Ugh?” mumbled Timothy, his eyes widening in surprise.

Then he screamed.

The boy’s phantom limb convulsed and spasmed, muscles straining as they involuntarily contracted and expanded, ripping and tearing. He felt rivers of fire and bolts of lightning surging through his chest, his disconnected nerves burning a molten white-hot. Timothy thrashed around in his seat, twisting and turning as much as his restraints allowed, the rough leather interior of the belts chaffing and grazing against his smooth skin.

He felt hot salty tears stinging his eyes; felt as if his teeth would shatter, so hard he was biting down on the bit in his mouth. His fingers and toes curled in on themselves, his fingernails digging deep into his palm, but that hurt barely registered. Timothy’s tendons stretched and strained as his body tensed, trying to shift itself away from inescapable pain.

Timothy threw his head back, shaking it from side-to-side; the veins in his neck protruding; his eye wide and bulging, staring unseeing up at the ceiling as he let loose a gurgling wail. His hips bucked, barely moving fractions of an inch as he instinctively tried to move away from the source of his agony. The boy’s lungs burned as he tried to suck in oxygen to stop himself from passing out as he screamed into his make-shift gag.

Timothy had forgotten just how painful it was to have dozens of nerves ripped away from his frail frame, each tiny filament connecting some part of the arm to the rest of his body. He sorely wished that he could have been unconscious, or even just more drugged up to the point of obliviousness, during the horrendous connections or disconnections, but that was never possible. The boy could barely feel or think anything else, could scarcely remember ever feeling or thinking anything else but the pain and his fervent desire for it to end.

Colin moved quickly, trying to block out the muffled laments as he placed the severed arm into the long and narrow case on the table. He close the lid with a snap, not wanting to look at it for a moment longer. The man took only a brief detour in his journey to move to comfort his young friend, attaching the protective cover to Timothy’s stump.

He had barely loosened the belts around the boy’s left arm when they shot up, pulling him close so that Timothy could weep into his shoulder. Colin ran his trembling fingers through the boy’s matted dark hair, whispering platitudes into the boy’s ear as they embraced. The man held the boy close as he felt the heaving sobs begin to subside.

“How is it?” Colin asked as he unstrapped Timothy’s legs, leaving the boy still held to the chair at chest and waist.

“Hurts,” Timothy told the man, trying to put a brave smile on his face. “But not as bad now.”

“Good,” the man replied, unfastening the belt from around the boy’s waist.

“Think you can sit up by yourself?” he asked.

“Maybe in a sec,” the boy answered.

“Can I ask you something weird?” Timothy asked after several silence filled minutes.

“Sure,” Colin said, looking at the boy questioningly.

“I kinda had a boner before you took it off,” the boy said, glancing down at his tented crotch. “And I’ve still got one, even though what just happened really hurt.”

“You want to know why?” asked the man, receiving a nod from the boy. “Adrenaline can do odd things to you, even in less extreme circumstances, so getting a boner because you’re scared isn’t that uncommon.”

“Heh,” Timothy mumbled a little drunkenly. “You said ‘cir **cum** stances’!”

“I guess,” Timothy continued after a vacant pause, and an unconvinced shrug. “It’s still weird though.”

Colin scooped Timothy up into his arms, much to the youngsters chagrin, when the boy said that he finally felt ready to get up from the chair. He deposited the tired and aching boy on the sofa and went to bring Timothy a glass of juice. The man’s heart jumped into his chest when he returned to find the boy walking on unsteady legs to retrieve the remote to the television.

“I can get it,” he said, shooing the boy away and insisting Timothy rest.

“I’m fine, it just stings a lot now,” the boy said, rolling his eyes, dropping himself back onto the cushions, and wincing.

§

“Bleh!” Timothy said, sticking his tongue out and wrinkling his nose is disgust. “It still tastes yucky.”

The boy had just taken another dose of Morphine, the only one he would be given that day by Collin, despite his protests that he wasn’t in as much pain. He had done a good job, or so he had thought, of disguising his grunts, groans and whines from the man during the morning, but Collin’s keen eyes had noticed every time. Timothy sat on the sofa half-watching the television as his medicine took effect.

“I wanna have sex tonight,” he told Collin as they watched a movie in the mid-afternoon. “It’s been like, three days since we did anything.”

“Yeah,” said the man gently. “And you’ve been through a lot in those three days.”

“I’m fiiine,” Timothy said, elongating the word as he grinned placidly to himself.

“‘Fine’ and doped up,” Collin said with a note of concern.

“It’s all good,” the boy said with a giggle. “You’d be wann-ing to do me… do it with me, anyway; wh’s t’ it matters if I’m a teeny-weeny bit buzzed?”

“A ‘teeny bit’,” asked the man doubtfully.

“I’ve been more buzzed and out of it when you’ve been teasing me and getting me super-duper horny,” Timothy countered. “An’ I trust ya not to take umbrage—amperage—advantage ov’s me!”

“You’re not going to let this go,” Collin said with a sigh, shaking his head, “Are you?”

“Nope!” the boy said, shaking his head in return a little too vigorously, making himself dizzy.

“But I get to veto anything we do,” the man told Timothy reasonably.

“We’re having Tacos?” the boy said confusedly, shaking his head again, this time to clear it. “Oh, veto. Ya say stop, we’s stop. Got’s it.”

Collin felt more comfortable with the proceedings by the time evening came around, the Morphine apparently affecting Timothy less now. The man and boy had debated back-and-forth for a little while longer, the boy’s arguments becoming more cogent as the hours passed. He still watched Timothy carefully, ready to call off their tryst, but not finding a compelling reason to do so.

“No dick stuff,” he warned Timothy as the boy returned from the bathroom—licking his lips and pulling a disgusted face—and they began to undress in the boy’s bedroom. “I’m afraid if we do much more to it, it might fall off,” he joked.

“You mean this dick?” Timothy giggled, pushing down the front of his pants and wiggling the caramel, half-erect dick in the man’s direction. “Looks ready for some fun to me, not been soft since before… you know….”

“Yeah,” said Collin as they both divested themselves of their clothes. “That’s part of the problem.”

He helped Timothy onto his bed, with the boy grumbling that he didn’t need it, but accepting it all the same. The man laid him down on his back, bringing his knees up, feet at his hips, exposing the winking brown hole. Collin finally slipped a pillow under the boy’s back, raising his hips to a workable height.

Colin lent forwards between Timothy’s legs, lowering his mouth to the boy’s winking, wrinkled brown hole. The man inhaled deeply, drawing in the familiar scents of his young friend’s earthy, sweaty pucker. He kissed around the spasming lips, saliva lubricating the ring; he nibbed at the rim, listening to gasps and moans of pleasure from the boy; he slipped his tongue into the yielding hole, tasting the soft pink flesh inside.

“Please don’t tease me or do any of that other pervy stuff,” Timothy begged. “Not tonight. I just wanna feel good.”

“I’m not going to,” Collin promised, pulling his head back and gently pressing his finger against the loose and twitching hole, “And you will. I’m just making sure you are comfortable, I’m in charge, remember.”

“Oh!-Kay!” the boy squeaked as Collin deftly slipped the full length of his finger inside the boy’s well lubed butt, and pressed firmly onto Timothy’s boy-button.

“Nice?” the man asked, massaging the little gland in smooth circles.

“Mm,” purred Timothy, rolling his hips in time with the man’s movements. “Yeah. Nice. Fuckin’ nice.”

Timothy moaned softly as his, now seemingly permanently, half-half cock began to rise and thicken, leaking clear juice from its shiny tip. He knew that Collin would keep his word and make him cum with no messing about, but he still wiggled his butt, trying to speed up the process. The boy gasped loudly as Collin reversed the direction of his massage, briefly moving it counter to the sway of Timothy’s hips.

“Ugh,” moaned Timothy, a slight note of dissatisfaction creeping into his voice. “I’m gonna cum real soon.”

The boy usually wanted to get to his orgasm as soon as possible, to feel the pleasure bursting inside him, but even for him, this was disappointingly too quick. Timothy tried his best to stay still, to let the man do his work bringing him to his climax, but he just felt too good and relaxed to make the effort to prevent his rapidly approaching orgasm. He cried out and shuddered, his thin white load streaking his bronze chest as he fired out two days worth of cum.

“I wanted to last a bit longer than that,” the boy told Collin sullenly, annoyed by his hair-trigger. “Felt nice though.”

“Who said that was going to be the only one?” the man queried, grinning at Timothy.

Collin partially withdrew his thick finger from Timothy’s hole, taking great care to rub his knuckles against the sensitive rim. The man plunged his digit back into the boy’s hole, firmly caressing the hidden nut with his fingertip. He pulled his finger out again, adding a twist, turning his finger 180°—first clockwise, then counter-clockwise—dragging around the inner circumference of the twitching pucker.

Timothy mewled happily at the man’s erotic assault on his butt. He threw his left arm over his face, as the sensations in his groin built with a fever-pitch, threatening to overwhelm him. The boy grunted and bucked his hips as a second, much thinner load was pumped out of his throbbing boy-cock to join the cooling pool already on his taut belly.

“Another round?” asked the man with a knowing smile.

Timothy hissed his assent, nodding fervently as he tried to restrain himself from begging. The boy’s back arched and his head was thrown back as Collin began tapping a rhythm out on his pulsing prostate. His left hand, holding onto his right shoulder for support, gripped tightly, and sending a sharp spark of pain into his chest, making his confused dick jump and hole clench with unexpected delight.

“Fuck!” he groaned, a long low note reverberating in his chest as ejaculated again, squeezing his shoulder as the sensations mixed within him.

“Why ya stopped?” the boy asked after several minutes of trying to regain his breath, slurring his words a little. “Was startin’ to feel good.”

“Okay,” said Collin firmly. “One more, then that’s it for you.”

“Fine,” replied the boy reluctantly.

“Do you want a big finish?” the man asked. “Go for two fingers?”

“Yeah,” Timothy moaned.

Collin’s second finger slipped easily into the boy’s winking hole, he had been purposefully and subtly stretching it as he had brought the boy off the three previous times. The man’s finger slid in deep, parallel to each other until they rested side-by-side on the quivering button. He began to move them apart, and back together again, in a scissoring motions, increasing and decreasing the amount of contact with the boy’s prostate of several long seconds.

“Shit,” moaned Timothy contentedly. “That’s good—right there.”

The boy lasted longer that he expected before his final orgasm, his capacity for climax seemingly depleted. He shuddered and groaned, biting his lip as the man forced pleasure through his entire body. Timothy dry-cummed hard, his still rock-hard cocklet throbbing madly as it tried in vain to squirt a load that was not forthcoming.

Collin slowly removed his fingers from the boy’s twitching bottom, being careful not to overstimulate him. The man leaned forward, bending over the boy’s heaving torso, gently rubbing his chest to soothe his pounding heart. He lowered his head and began lapping up to cool, sticky sperm from the boy’s sweaty skin.

“I wanna get you off too,” Timothy said, slurring his words slightly.

He felt the lingering effects of the Morphine mingling with the rush of Endorphins and Adrenaline from his multiple orgasms coursing though him. Timothy blinked at the man, grinning broadly, looking at him with hopeful eyes. The boy smirked as he say Collin’s cock jump, wanting to accept the invitation.

“Please?” he begged, wiggling his hips enticingly.

“Okay,” the man said. “Just a quick handjob then it’s time for bed.”

“I was thinking of something else,” Timothy said, licking his lips lustfully.

“I’m not going to do your butt again,” Collin told him. “It’s already had more than enough of a work-out.”

“No,” said Timothy agreeing with the man. “I was thinking of you doing it between my feet, like you used to do before I got… well, you know.”

“I remember,” the man said, his hands sliding down the boy’s thighs and calves. “But didn’t you say that was ‘ultra-paedo-pervy’?”

“Mm,” the boy moaned as the man’s hands reached his ankles, lifting the feet up towards that man’s chest. “Yeah, but you like that dirty talk too, don’t you…”

“I think we both do,” Collin said, running his tongue over the sole of Timothy’s right foot, lubricating its surface with his saliva.

The boy giggled and squirmed at the ticklish sensation, his toes wriggling as the man moved to his other foot. Timothy, even though he would not admit it to the man, enjoyed giving Collin the foot-jobs in the past almost as much as the man enjoyed receiving them. He smirked at the man, his lip curling as he began to taunt and tease Collin.

“You’re a weirdo, licking an innocent young boy’s feet and, oh…” he moaned as the man moved Timothy’s feet to his groin. “...slipping his big, fat dick between them.

He could feel the man’s pulse through the bottoms of his feet, the thick shaft throbbing against his arches as the man started to piston back-and-forth. The boy moaned as slid his feet up-and-down, rolling the cock between them. Timothy sighed as the familiar sensation came back to him.

“You’re a massive ultra-perv you know,” he told the man. “Getting off on this.”

“Yeah,” Collin groaned as he pressed the soles tighter around his dick. “They feel so soft.”

“You’re so fucked up you know,” Timothy said gleefully, giggling as he felt the man’s cock pulse as he wrapped his toes around them. “Fucking a disabled kids feet.”

Collin grunted, the boy knew just how to push his buttons when he was in this mood, to exploit the love the man felt for him and poke fun at the deepest of desires. The man rapidly approached the point of no return, his lust had been building all throughout his ministrations on the boy, almost cumming in tandem with Timothy on a couple of occasions. He gasped and ejaculated hard, spraying the boy’s belly, chest and chin with hot, thick, white cum.

“Yeah,” moaned Timothy, relishing the moment as he was covered in the man’s jizz. “Cum on me, you fucking paedo!”

Timothy lay staring up at Collin who stared back down at him, both panting from exhaustion. He grinned as he scooped the creamy goo from his chin and sucked it off of his finger, his eyes never leaving the man’s. The boy’s cheeks began to flush a delicate ruddy hue as they both came down from their sexual highs.

“I,” he said hesitantly. “I’m sorry if I went to far. I’m feeling a bit…” He gestured to his head as the giddy fuzziness he had been feeling for a while started to dissipate.

“It’s okay, I know” the man assured him. “And I enjoyed it.”

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Timothy apologised sheepishly. “Not really.”

“Oh,” said Collin, a sly grin breaking out onto his face. “So I’m not really a weirdo then?”

“I didn’t mean _everything_ said then.” the boy clarified with a giggle.

§

“Please, sit,” Dr Kovač said, gesturing to the two seats in front of Timothy and Colin.

The boy and the man sat, Timothy shuffling his chair closer to Colin’s, and taking hold of the man’s right hand.

“So, was it hacked,” Collin asked the doctor tersely, “or did you lot make a mistake when you fitted it?”

“Colin,” the boy quietly admonished, “you don’t need to say it like that, I’m sure it wasn’t their fault.”

“It’s okay,” the doctor told Timothy, ignoring man’s comment for the moment. “How are you feeling?” he added kindly.

“Alright I suppose,” Timothy said, shrugging and shifting in his seat, “it stings a bit now-and-then, but mostly it’s fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Dr Kovač told him, smiling warmly, “it was a very bold thing that you did. Not many adults would choose, or be brave enough, to do that.”

Timothy gave the doctor an embarrassed smile, remembering how much he’d cried when Colin removed the arm a week ago.

“Do you still have enough medicine?” he asked, still directing his questions at the boy.

“Maybe,” the boy replied, a brief guilty look flashing onto his face, “it depends on when I’m going to get it reattached. Today?”

“Not today,” Dr Kovač told him, noticing the look of relief passing over the boys face, “we’ll make an appointment for you in a week or two, give you some of the good stuff so it will be _mostly_ painless.”

“Okay,” Timothy said with a sigh of relief, sticking his tongue out for effect, “Morphine's really yucky, and it still really hurt.”

“I bet it did,” the doctor said solemnly, nodding sagely.

After a few moments of silence, Colin spoke again. “So, are you going to tell us what happened?”

“Yes, of course,” Dr Kovač said patiently, “but first I need to ask a few more questions, some more personal questions.”

“You asked if Timothy’s arm was hacked or if we made a mistake?” he continued, directing his question at the man, “It was neither of those, at least not in the ways I expect that you imagined.”

“What do you mean?” asked Colin, frowning.

“I have a hypothesis,” the doctor told the pair, “that I would like you to help me confirm.”

“You told us that your arm started to masturbate you on its own,” he said, looking at Timothy enquiringly, “but you didn’t mention if it made you ejaculate.”

“No,” said Timothy, flushing with embarrassment, “because I didn’t.”

“I’m guessing it was the opposite,” the doctor posited, “that it wouldn’t let you ejaculate.”

“No,” said Timothy again, turning a deeper shade of red.

“Is that was what you were expecting to happen,” Dr Kovač asked knowingly, “not to ejaculate, at least not for a good while.”

“No… Yes…,” the boy mumbled, “I mean, what you said.”

“And I’m guessing that you didn’t decide to start edging yourself on a whim,” the doctor said gently, “that, perhaps, you were practising?”

“Yeah,” Timothy said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “that.”

“Am I correct in say that you and Colin are,” Dr Kovač asked delicately, “ _intimate_.”

Timothy’s head snapped up and turn to stare at Colin, eyes wide, then to the doctor, a look of shock on his face.

“Um… I… We…,” the boy stammered, but the doctor already knew his true answer.

“It’s okay,” he assured Timothy, “do you like what you and Colin do together?”

“Yeah!” Timothy told him, nodding vigorously.

“And does he try to get you do anything you don’t want to, or you don’t like?” the doctor probed gently.

“No, but,” said the boy hesitantly, “it’s kinda frustrating when he doesn’t let me, you know, cum. But he tells me it’ll feel better when I do in the end, and it does, so I kinda like it too.”

“I understand,” said Dr Kovač with a chuckle, “my young friend feels the same way.”

“What?” spluttered Timothy, rapidly look from the doctor to Collin and back again, “You do stuff with boys too?”

“Yes, I do,” Dr Kovač said.

“That’s so cool,” the boy breathed, his previous embarrassment all but forgotten.

§

“Does this have anything to do with Timothy’s arm, doctor?” Collin asked, cutting in.

“Yes, it does.” the doctor told the pair, watching as Timothy’s grin faltered.

“Then I hope you’re not suggesting that this was Timothy’s fault.” Collin said, a little more harshly than he intended as he squeezed the boy’s hand, hoping to indicate that he didn’t think that was the case.

“No,” Dr Kovač said carefully, “not exactly, anyway. I expect it was you who taught Timothy that delayed gratification can be so rewarding?”

Collin nodded curtly and waiting for the doctor to continue.

“Did you know,” he asked, turning back to Timothy, “that you are the youngest recipient of this class of prosthetic?”

“What?” asked Timothy, startled, “I knew I was _one of_ the youngest, but not _the_ youngest. That’s… wow!”

“When it was fitted, were you told much about it?” the doctor questioned, “Like, that it contains a rudimentary AI?”

“Yeah,” said Timothy, nodding and grinning, “I thought that was so cool. It’s meant to learn how I moved my arm before so it was more natural, and not me having to learn how to move it.”

“That’s right, top marks,” Dr Kovač said, congratulating the boy, “and that AI is the root of the problem.”

“Oh,” said Timothy, sounding disappointed.

“I told you that the problem was partly our fault,” he reminded the pair with a glance towards Collin, “and that was because we didn’t anticipate how much the AI would learn.”

“I don’t understand,” the boy said, confused.

“So, it’s like this.” Dr Kovač explained, “When the prosthetic is fitted to an adult or older teenager, most of their patterns of movement are already fixed, so the AI has only a little work to do. But with you, you are still learning how your body works, and it’s changing, or going to change very soon. I’m sure you’ve noticed yourself becoming a little more uncoordinated as your body is growing?”

“Yeah,” said Timothy, nodding, “I thought it would be, like, a perfect arm, but it was kind of like my original one, I’d fumble stuff, and sometimes it would be hard to do stuff properly.”

“Exactly.” the doctor said, “That is how it was meant to be, but in your case, being young, those patterns changed almost constantly, so the AI had trouble knowing what was what.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Timothy said, frowning, “So you’re saying that I taught it how to wank me and not let me cum!?”

“Essentially, yes,” Dr Kovač told Timothy before glancing at Collin and adding, “but not intentionally.”

“Did you like what it was doing to you before you disabled it?” the doctor asked, addressing Timothy again.

“No,” said Timothy, looking aghast and shaking his head.

“Not at all?” asked the doctor, “Not even at the start?”

“Well,” the boy said, biting his lip and looking off into space, recalling his feelings, “it was exciting and a bit scary to start with. You know, because it was wanking me, but it wasn’t stopping. But, I didn’t really try that hard to stop it.”

“I see,” the doctor said, “and it kept getting more exciting, and a little bit more scary?”

“Yeah,” nodded Timothy, “it was really scary at the end, but…”

“But, that scariness made it a bit exciting too?” Dr Kovač ventured.

“I guess it did,” Timothy mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at his half-admission.

“Could it be that you enjoyed losing control, just a bit,” the doctor asked gently, “that time to your prosthetic; when you pretend it’s someone else doing it to you; when Collin does it to you?”

“Yeah,” muttered Timothy, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment and gripping Collin’s hand a little tighter, “’specially the last one.”

“I do too,” Dr Kovač confided to the boy, grinning at his shocked expression, “especially when my young friend ties me up.”

“Wow…” Timothy breathed at the revelation.

Collin looked at the doctor with a half-amused, half-annoyed look that clearly said, _“don’t give the boy any ideas.”_

“And that was the crux of the problem,” the doctor said solemnly, “the AI misinterpreted your feeling of fear as ones of excitement because they were so tightly linked at that moment.”

“So,” said Timothy, frowning as he tried to piece everything together, “my arm only did what it did because it thought that I liked it more than I actually did?”

“Yes,” the doctor said nodding, “every time you masturbated and denied yourself an orgasm, it learned that you really liked it in the end, and the longer you denied yourself, the bigger the effect and the more you liked it.”

“So,” said Timothy glumly, “it was my fault.”

“No.” said Dr Kovač firmly, but kindly, “You did what any other curious young man would naturally do. So it’s definitely **not** your fault.”

“Okay,” the boy said sounding relieved.

“And I don’t think it was your fault entirely either,” said Collin, speaking up again, an apologetic note in his voice, “it seems like an unintended side effect.”

“Yes, but maybe one we should have anticipated,” the doctor pointed out, “but at least we know now, and we can monitor it.”

“Does that mean I’ll have to keep coming back in for more tests?” Timothy asked, tensing. He didn’t relish the idea of any more hospital visits than absolutely necessary.

“Yes,” said Dr Kovač, speaking quickly to forestall Timothy’s interruption, “but it doesn’t have to be at the hospital.”

“What do you mean?” asked Timothy and Collin simultaneously, turning and laughing at each-other as Timothy whispered _“Jinx”_.

“I have an office set up at my home where I see patients privately,” the doctor said, “and I’m willing to see you there given the delicate and personal nature of your… issue.”

“I guess that will be okay?” Timothy said, looking to Collin for his input.

“Works for me, I guess.” Collin said to the boy.

“And,” Dr Kovač said, grinning broadly, “it will give you both the opportunity to meet my young friend. I think you’ll like him, and I know he’ll like you two as well.”

§

Ten-year-old Gerard stared at Timothy avidly, a broad white-toothed smile framed by countless freckles, blue eyes glinting mischievously from under a mop of curly ginger hair. The boy fidgeted in his seat, fingers and toes curling and uncurling as the adults chatted. He darted forward and grabbed Timothy’s left hand, dragging him away from the two men.

“C’mon,” he said to Timothy, his patience now eroded by the men’s conversation, “let’s go to my room and _play_.”

T imothy surmised—with the  subtle wiggle of Gerard’s eyebrow, the  little curl of his lip, and the slight huskiness  in the young ster’ s voice—that  _‘play’_ actually meant  _‘hot and sweaty boy-sex’_ . The boy looked to Collin, partly seeking the man’s permission, and partly to make sure his older friend wouldn’t be jealous. He grinned widely at the man’s tiny nod, and allowed himself to be led away.

“Can I see it?” asked Gerard without preamble as soon as the door closed to his spacious room.

“See what?” asked Timothy, unsure what _it_ was exactly.

“Your arm, what’s still there I mean,” clarified the younger boy, pulling at his own t-shirt and casting it aside onto one of a number of beanbags that littered the spacious room, “I’ll strip off too if that’ll make you feel better?”

“Oh, okay,” said Timothy, unbuttoning and pulling his own shirt off one-handedly.

“Cool,” breathed Gerard as he leaned in to take a closer look at the socket and its protective cover, maintaining a respectful distance from his new friend.

“Thanks,” said Timothy awkwardly, bringing his hand up to his armpit and scratching it unnecessarily.

“Let’s take our pants off too,” suggested Gerard, already having pushed his own down to his knees.

“‘kay,” said Timothy, deftly popping open the button on his jeans and wiggling out of them.

“Nice,” said Gerard admiring the two-year-older boy’s body, his eyes tracing the faint scars on his right side, “can you guess what’s wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with you,” said Timothy as little more hotly than he had intended, “or me.”

“Okay,” said Gerard, rolling his eyes but sounding sympathetic, “can you guess what’s _different_ about me?”

Gerard stood back, held his arms out to the side, and  turned on the spot, giving Timothy a good all-round view of his body. He stopped as h is back faced his new friend, jiggling his small bottom and giggling. The boy thrust his hips forward and wiggle his briefs covered package at Timothy  as he completed his rotation .

“It’s not your dick, is it?” joked Timothy, looking at the bulge eagerly.

“Yup,” said Gerard proudly, groping himself and smirking, “I can shoot cum twen’y feet with this thing!”

“No. Fucking. Way!” said Timothy astonished before he saw Gerard’s face contort as he tried to stop himself from laughing.

“No of course it isn’t, you numpty!” giggled Gerard, “Guess again!”

T imothy examined the boy’s body in minute detail, looking for any tell-tale signs that he had a prosthetic limb or similar. He could only find a scar on the right side of the boy’s belly, and guessed that whatever made Gerard different was on the inside. The boy sighed, realizing that he had been tricked into checking out his friends body under the guise of the examination.

“You know,” said Gerard, breaking Timothy’s train of thought, “you’ve got kinda pretty eyes.”

“Thanks, I guess,” said Timothy, straightening up, blushing, and peering into Gerard’s, “yours are kinda… wait!”

Timothy’s deep brown eyes had met Gerard’s bright blue ones. The boy frowned as he took a step forward, staring at his friend’s face more intently. He noticed for the first time that one of them had a more green tinge to it than the other.

“Can you guess which one I had first?” asked Gerard, opening his eyes wider so that Timothy could inspect them.

He could feel Gerard’s hot breath on this trembling lips as they stood, noses almost touching. The boy’s brown eyes flicked between the other two blue/green ones, trying to discern which one was the original. Timothy licked his lips out of nervousness, the tip of his tongue  accidentally touching the other boy’s  lips  too.

“I think you got the left one second,” guessed Timothy; it was the one with the tiny flecks of green in it.

“You‘re right,” whispered Gerard, tilting his head, and leaning forward to speak directly into Timothy’s ear, “and I think you deserve a reward for guessing it.”

“Like what?” asked Timothy quietly.

“Like, I’m going to tie you up.” said his friend huskily.

“W-what would you have done if it got it wrong?” asked Timothy with a little shiver.

“I’d still be tying you up,” said Gerard, his lips brushing against Timothy’s earlobe as he smirked, “but I wouldn’t have used my good rope.”

§

“Oh,” said Timothy uneasily, as Gerard turned and moved away from him in the direction of a wide wardrobe built into one of the walls, “but what if I don’t want to be tied up?”

“That tells me that you do,” said Gerard confidently as he walked back to Timothy, a few long coiled of red, silken loops of rope hanging from his shoulder.

H e pointed at the tent in Timothy’s blue briefs, particularly the dark, wet patch where the tip of his dick rested. Gerard rubbed the front of his own underwear, showing of f the smaller, but extremely damp spot where his own prick was pushing out the fabric. The boy raised his hand and placed it on his friend’s chest, over  the  rapidly beating his heart.

“You’re excited,” Gerard told his friend.

“Yeah, kinda,” said Timothy evasively.

“Me too,” said Gerard, taking hold of Timothy’s hand gently, and leading him over to the bed, “I’ve never tied up a guy with only one arm before, it’s gonna be fun.”

T imothy found himself kneeling on Gerard’s bed, trying to keep his balance after each of his legs had been tied  separately. He shifted, feeling the intricate lattice work of the cords wrapped around, and between, his thighs and calves. The boy felt oddly calm, even though he had been robbed of the ability to move by a boy he had just met, and eagerly awaited what was coming next.

He studied Gerard’s face as the boy—with the tip of his tongue protruding from between his lips—busied himself with t y ing the surprisingly smooth and comfortable rope in criss-cross patterns across his chest and abdomen. The boy tried to twist his neck far enough around to see how his friend was knotting it behind his back, but he could not stretch far enough. Timothy willingly—if a little hesitantly—surrendered his arm to Gerard, who folded it behind his back, in the way he would  do if he were scratching himself, and bound wrist to shoulder, then neatly fastened it to the out of sight spiders web.

“Wow,” said Gerard, spreading his legs and shuffling in behind Timothy, pushing himself up onto his knees, and looking over his friend’s shoulder, “You look hot like this.”

“Thanks,” said Timothy, surprised at how good it actually felt, “It feels good too.”

“You know,” said Gerard as he squatted back down, resting his chin on Timothy’s shoulder, their cheeks touching, “I could go and get a gag and strap that on too.”

“I-I,” stammered Timothy, “I don’t know…”

“Then you wouldn’t be able to stop be from doing whatever I wanted to you,” said Gerard mildly, speaking as if he hadn’t heard what his friend had said, “no-one would be able to.”

“I-I-I,” stuttered Timothy again, “I don’t think I want that…”

“Are you sure?” asked Gerard quietly, wrapping his arms around Timothy’s chest in a tight hug, “I think _little Timmy_ might like that, hmm?”

“I don’t know,” said Timothy, biting his lip nervously as _little Timmy_ throbbed in his underwear.

“Maybe next time, then.” whispered Gerard softly, “But I do know what you will like…”

“W-what’s that?” asked Timothy cautiously.

“For me to touch, and rub _little Timmy_ , and…” said Gerard _,_ bringing his hand up to rest on Timothy’s shoulders again.

“And what?” asked Timothy breathlessly.

“And maybe make him cum,” said Gerard.

“Yes please,” asked Timothy, almost begging.

The boy’s fingers traced the soft red ropes, pressing them slightly deeper into his friend’s flesh. He took little detours, tickling the skin between the diamonds as his hands  drew closer to their destination.  Gerard’s fingers teased the waistband of Timothy’s tented, sodden briefs, tantalizingly close to the throbbing cock trapped inside them.

§

“Hmm,” said Gerard thoughtfully.

“What?” asked Timothy as he tried to wriggle his hips so that his friend’s fingers slipped inside his underwear.

“I was just thinking…” said Gerard lazily.

“What!” sad Timothy desperately now that he was so close to getting to cum.

“I was thinking,” Gerard repeated slowly, “that only good boys get to cum. Have you been a good boy, Tim?”

“Y-yes.” said Timothy hopefully.

“Maybe,” said Gerard doubtfully, “what have you done to repay me?”

“Repay you?” asked Timothy, a little confused.

“Yes,” observed Gerard, his fingertips dancing on Timothy’s prickly flesh, just above the hem of the underpants, “I mean, I’ve let you borrow my ropes, and even gone to the trouble of tying you up in them.”

“And?” questioned Timothy, not following his friends meaning.

“And, you’ve done nothing for me at all,” said Gerard, a perfectly timed note of sadness creeping into his voice, “you’ve not even offered me a blowjob, or anything.”

“I can do that!” said Timothy, growing more desperate to get off, and feeling that this was a small—and very fun—price to pay.

“Mm, good boy,” moaned Gerard into Timothy’s ear.

H e pushed himself to his feet, using Timothy’s shoulders as leverage, and paced around the trussed up boy to stand in front of him. The boy pushed down, and kicked off, his underwear with practised ease, barely wobbling on the springy mattress. Gerard grinned as he took a small step forward, standing so that his steel hard dick was just too far away from Timothy’s outstretched tongue.

“Please move forward a bit,” begged Timothy as he tried his best to reach Gerard’s dick without overbalancing.

“Okay,” said Gerard with a smirk, “since you said ‘please’.”

He shuffled forward so that the tip of  the older boy ’s barley scarped across the slit of his dick. The boy sighed with pleasure as  Timothy lapped at the flow of his precum. Gerard took another half-step forward so that his friend’s tongue could explore the entire head of his dick.

Timothy greedily licked up the salty-sweet flow, catching the constant stream on his tongue, swallowing it, and quickly going back for more. The boy tried to wrap his tongue around his friend’s glans much like a snake coiling around its prey, in the vein ho pe that he could catch hold of the tasty dick and pull it closer. He moaned in delight as Gerard moved closer still so that he could suck the head, and a little of the shaft into his mouth, and start to apply a slight vacuum.

“Mm,” groaned Gerard happily as Timothy continued his ministrations, running his small fingers through his friend’s thick, dark hair, “you’re good at this, aren’t you.”

“M-mm!” moaned Timothy from around his friend’s dick.

“Get more of it in.” ordered Gerard, his hands caressing the sides of Timothy face as he moved them back to his friend’s shoulder.

The boy moaned in frustration as he tried to do as he had been told, but Gerard wasn’t making it any easier for him by moving closer again. He tried to bend forward a little, but quickly stopped himself as he started to overbalance. Timothy’s eyes darted up to look into Gerard’s as he felt the smaller boy exert the precise amount of pressure onto his shoulder to make him topple forwards, but also to prevent him from crashing down onto the bed.

“There you go,” said Gerard approvingly, holding Timothy in position, teetering on the edge of falling, but perfect balanced as he slipped his dick fully into Timothy’s mouth.

Timothy panicked for a moment, but quickly got used to his perilous position as Gerard held him steady. He focused on rhythmically sucking and licking the small but rock hard dick in his mouth. The boy was surprised when his friend slowly withdrew his dick, then easily slipped it back deep inside, effortlessly face-fucking him.

Gerard continued with slow, measured strokes, maximising his pleasure while he easily controlled his friend’s position. He found it easier to do it with the older boy than with Doc Kovač, which let him concentrate of the sensations even more. The boy sighed and shuddered as his orgasm approached, gripping his friend’s shoulders more tightly.

“Yes! I’m cumming!” he gasped out, the regulated thrusts giving way to a rabbit-like humping as his climax consumed him.

§

“Mm,” moaned Gerard quietly as he rested his head across Timothy’s chest, “you are a good boy after all.”

He had untied Timothy’s legs, but not his arm, and laid his friend carefully on the bed, propping him up with a comfortable stack of pillows. The boy had positioned his right leg across both of Timothy’s, gently limiting his older friends movements. Gerard sighed contentedly, his warm breath passing over the other boy’s damp skin.

“It’s a shame it’ll be too hard to take your arm off again,” said Gerard sadly, the slim fingers of his left hand softly stroking Timothy’s right shoulder, “it was fun tying you up like this.”

“Yeah, I liked it too,” admitted Timothy.

“Well, at least I can do both arms next time,” said Gerard, “I’ve had more practice at that, and I can do a lot of more cooler ties too!”

“I kind of don’t like people touching my arm when we _‘play’_ ,” murmured Timothy apologetically, “not even Collin.”

“But you’ll let _me_ , right,” stated Gerard with the supreme confidence of a ten-year-old boy, giving Timothy’s shoulder and the attached prosthetic socket a possessive squeeze.

“M-maybe,” hissed Timothy as a prickling sensation emanated from under his younger friend’s fingers.

“Yeah, you will,” said Gerard doubtlessly, as he squirmed closer to Timothy, pressing his small body tightly to his friend’s, “‘cause you love this.”

“So,” asked Timothy pointedly a little later as his young friend ran one finger lazily up-and-down the length of his rampant cock, “are you gonna just keep touching me like that, or are you gonna make me cum.”

“I like rubbing _little Timmy_ like this,” said Gerard in a dreamy voice, “and I only said that I would ‘maybe’ let him cum.”

§


End file.
